


The Aches and Pains of Matt Murdock (retitled)

by coffeegrl



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bromance, College, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, MattWhump, Nightmares, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, SickMatt, Trauma, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-25 16:14:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6202219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeegrl/pseuds/coffeegrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few more chapters of our favorite Avocados at Law during (mostly) their college days, being bros and all that. MattWhump! because we can never have enough of that. I suck at titles and I'll add more tags as more chapters are posted.<br/>None of these stories/chapters are necessarily set in the same time-line. If they were, poor Matt would end up spending so much time sick or injured that he'd never get out of Columbia with his law degree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Head

**Author's Note:**

> This is not directly related to the first Matt/Foggy series I wrote a year or so ago (can be found here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/4030390/chapters/9062380) but if you like this one, and haven't read my other work before, check it out. This is the same general type of story. 
> 
> I do not own Daredevil/Matt Murdock, Foggy, or anything Marvel related. No copyright intended. I'll put the boys back when I'm done with them.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt has a migraine. It sucks.

“I hate my head,” Matt groaned, resting his forehead on his arm, which was draped across the toilet seat. “If you would just cut it off, I’m sure I’d feel a lot better.”

“Maybe,” Foggy said, rubbing small circles on Matt’s back. “But I don’t really know how trustworthy a headless lawyer is. Might decrease the number of clients we’ll have someday.”

Matt groaned again, spit once more into the toilet, and pushed himself up off the ground. This wasn’t the first migraine Matt had ever had, and he figured it wouldn’t be the last either. Foggy put a steady, reassuring arm around him and helped guide him a couple feet to the right to the sink. Matt fumbled for one of the small paper cups they kept there, filled it with water, swished it around in his mouth, and spit. Foggy wanted to suggest some mouthwash or a quick brushing with toothpaste, but he also knew the taste of either one would send Matt right back to the religious act of praying to the porcelain gods again. 

“You want to lie down?” Foggy asked. “Or do you think it would be better to stay in here for now?” Matt always ended up vomiting whenever he had a migraine. He always got all the classic symptoms of migraines: dizziness, nausea caused by almost any scent, vomiting, and sensitivity to sound. With Matt’s heightened senses, though, all of these things were much worse than if he were “normal.” 

“I think I’m ok for now,” Matt said. “Just keep the trash can right next to my bed.”

Foggy led Matt back to his bed and helped him get comfortable, pulling the blankets over him, fluffing his pillow, making sure the blinds and curtains were closed so as to block out as much sound as possible. One of the first things Matt had bought when he started college several years ago, and made sure to bring to law school with him, was sound and light reducing curtains. He had a hard time finding ones that completely blocked out sound that would fit the windows in dorm rooms, but these worked well and Foggy also appreciated them when he would wake up the morning after having had a little too much to drink. 

Matt heard Foggy walk back to the bathroom, then the sound of water in the sink, and then footsteps again. He let out another little moan, this one of relief, as Foggy laid a cold, wet washcloth on his forehead and over his eyes. “You sure you don’t want any of your pills?” Foggy asked softly.

Foggy had dragged Matt to the campus health clinic their first semester of law school together when he found him curled up on the floor of the shower, crying from how bad his migraine was. There had been a party on their floor and between the music, the yelling, and the smells of everything from beer and pizza to marijuana, Matt had taken refuge in the bathroom. The campus doctor had prescribed the most powerful pain reliever he was allowed to prescribe at the walk-in clinic. If somebody needed anything stronger, they had to go to the walk-in clinic that was literally three feet from where Columbia’s campus technically ended.

“I took some ibuprofen,” Matt said. Even ibuprofen was a lot for Matt, who wasn’t a health nut (he enjoyed such things as beer, chocolate, and pizza), but did work out on a regular basis and avoided putting medications into his body if he could keep from it. However, the regular strength ibuprofen, even at max dosage, wasn’t enough to cut through his migraines once they got started. If he could take a few of them when he felt the first tinglings of one coming on, they usually helped to dull the pain some and just make it a really bad headache. But this one had started sometime the night before when he was asleep. By the time the pain had woken him up, it was too late.

“Want me to leave?” Foggy asked. He still felt guilty about the time he had been trying to be really quiet when Matt had a migraine, but he had forgotten to silence the ringer on his cell phone. He had stepped out to ask a classmate of theirs who lived down the hall if he could borrow a library book that had some information in it he wanted for his research paper when the sounds of Aerosmith’s “Walk this Way” blasted through the room. The ringer had been on full volume. He had turned it up when he had been out at a bar a couple nights before and must have forgotten to turn it down. Foggy had gone running back, frantically trying to find his phone in the mess on his bed while Matt gripped his head in his hands and begged Foggy to make it stop. 

It wouldn’t have been so bad if Matt hadn’t ended up throwing up in his bed due to the increased pain from the ring tone. Matt was in pain, embarrassed, and unable to change the sheets and blanket on his own bed. Foggy had helped him change into a clean pair of sweatpants and t-shirt, and had washed the sheets and blanket along with the rest of Matt’s laundry to try and make up for it, but he still felt guilty. He felt so guilty in fact, that he changed all his ring tones to a simple chirping bird.

“No,” Matt said. “Just…..just try to stay quiet, ok?”

“Yeah, of course,” Foggy said, grimacing at the memory again of the “cell phone incident” as he liked to call it. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will,” Matt said. “I’m just going to get some sleep.”

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” Foggy said, even though he knew with as much pain as Matt was in that he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He would shift around in his bed, lying on his back, then his side, then maybe his back again, then probably his stomach, making small whimpering noises and moans involuntarily every so often. “Trash can’s at the head of the bed, right side.”

Matt gave what he thought was a smile, but was really more of a pain filled grimace. “Thanks. I….I really appreciate you putting up with me when I’m like this.”

“It’s no problem,” Foggy said, adjusting the washcloth on Matt’s forehead. “Just rest and let me know if you need anything.”

“Sure thing,” Matt said, then he heard Foggy retreat to his side of the room and open a book.

Just as Foggy suspected, Matt spent the next couple hours shifting around in his bed, little moans escaping his mouth every so often. Foggy got up twice to rewet the wash cloth with cold water and place it back on Matt’s forehead. Matt tried to utter a thank you each time, but even talking was painful for him. Foggy figured this must have been a doozy. His mom got migraines sometimes. She actually took the pain medication that had been prescribed to her, but she still had to just close herself off in a dark, quiet room when one hit. She had only once forgotten to refill the prescription and Foggy’s dad ended up taking her to the emergency room. Foggy figured Matt was at a level of pain that would have driven anyone else to beg for an ER visit so they could get good drugs.

Finally, Matt drifted into a fitful sleep. Foggy’s stomach growled. He wanted food and more than just crackers or cereal. If he cooked anything in the microwave, the smell would probably wake up Matt and send him running to the bathroom again. He debated for several minutes over what to do and finally decided he could make a quick run to the cafeteria a couple buildings away. Foggy grabbed a pad of paper and a large pencil, the fat kind that children use sometimes when first learning to write. He pressed down hard on the paper and wrote three letters: E-A-T. 

He and Matt had worked out this system where, as long as Foggy kept messages short, he could leave notes for Matt. Foggy pressed down into the paper hard enough that Matt would be able to feel the three letters and would know Foggy had stepped out for lunch. This didn’t work with long notes but simple things like eat, Josie’s (the bar they liked to hang out in), library, and date, worked out well. He left the pad of paper on Matt’s night stand, grabbed his phone and wallet, and slipped out the door.

Foggy hurried to the cafeteria, grabbed a pre-made sandwich, chips, and soda, paid, and then ate in a hurry. He didn’t like being away from Matt when he was suffering from one of his migraines, but he also knew he needed to eat or he would get a hunger headache. Foggy hurried back upstairs and found Matt sitting up in bed, holding the trash can in his lap, and staring at it. Well, staring as much as a blind guy could stare. Foggy rushed over to him.

“Matt, you ok?”

“I can’t decide if I’m going to throw up or not,” Matt replied in a shaky voice. 

Foggy grabbed the wash cloth that had fallen onto the bed, rewet it, and draped it on the back of Matt’s neck. He then wedged himself behind Matt and started to rub his back and shoulders. He knew that would help ease some of the tension and pain and, oddly, would actually help Matt’s body decide if it was going to throw up or not. After several minutes, Matt tentatively put the trash can back down on the floor. 

“How’s your head?” Foggy asked, taking the wash cloth and wiping Matt’s overheated face and neck. Matt never technically got a fever with the migraines, but his body would alternate between being overheated and having chills. 

“It’s actually a little better. Not gone yet, but downgraded.”

“We have some crackers and flat ginger ale. Do you think your stomach can handle anything yet?” Foggy asked hesitantly. He knew Matt needed to stay hydrated, but he also didn’t want him to have to go through another round of vomiting. As soon as Foggy realized that Matt was suffering from a migraine, he had opened a can, poured it into a cup, and set it in the mini fridge so it would start losing its carbonation. Flat ginger ale was better than fresh. The carbonation might end up making Matt’s stomach upset again.

“I’ll try some ginger ale,” Matt said.

Foggy grabbed the cup out of the fridge and poured half into another cup before handing it to Matt. Matt took a tentative sip, then another. Foggy stayed at the ready to shove the trash can in Matt’s hands if he needed it. 

“Talk to me,” Matt said to Foggy.

“Come again?” Foggy said, surprised that Matt was wanting to have a conversation. His head really must have been beginning to feel better.

“Well, I know you’re sitting at the foot of my bed just staring at me drink this. Might as well have a conversation while you wait to see if I hurl or not,” Matt said, smiling a little, before wincing in pain again. 

Foggy gave a little laugh. “Ok,” he said, then started in on how this librarian in the law library took great pleasure out of stalking the stacks, looking for anyone who might be mistreating the precious library books. He kept talking as Matt finished the soda, then slid back under the covers and closed his eyes. “Get some sleep Matt,” Foggy said, brushing a stray lock of hair off his forehead. He could tell by Matt’s relaxed state that the worst of the migraine was gone. He would still have a headache for several hours, maybe even through the night, but he was on the mend.

Sure enough, Matt slept through the night, only getting up once to use the bathroom and drink the rest of the flat ginger ale. Foggy made a mental note to make sure and push fluids into Matt the next day, to rehydrate him. He didn’t want Matt to get a headache from dehydration after just getting over a migraine. Foggy finally must have drifted off into a pretty deep sleep because he didn’t wake up again until the next morning.

“Matt,” he called, when he saw that his bed was empty.

Matt came out of the bathroom. He had obviously taken a shower and changed into fresh pajama pants and a t-shirt. He looked worlds better. “Hey,” Matt said, sitting down on his bed and sipping at a bottle of water.

“Headache gone?” Foggy asked.

“Yeah. I still feel a little fuzzy. I don’t really want to go out today and do anything. Maybe just listen to a movie and take a nap or two.”

“That sounds like a great plan,” Foggy said, as he got out of bed and headed into the bathroom to take a shower of his own. It was Sunday, so the dorm would be relatively quiet, at least until the afternoon. It was beginning to rain outside and today would be the perfect day for just lounging around and letting Matt rest before classes the next day.

“Hey Foggy,” Matt said.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for, you know, taking care of me. And for not cutting off my head when I asked you to.”

Foggy shrugged. “Hey, I need my best friend to have a head. You’d look a little odd otherwise.”

"I guess I would,” Matt said, chuckling. “I still really hate my head sometimes though.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used to get really bad migraines like the one I put in the story. Thankfully (knock on wood) I have't had a migraine in several years now. But mine used to be just about like this.


	2. Wisdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt's wisdom is causing him pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never experienced having my wisdom teeth surgically extracted, so I don't know what it's like. The one wisdom tooth I had to have removed took two local shots and about 90 seconds to extract. (Seriously, I spent more time with that disgusting tasting numbing gel on the cotton swab in my mouth than it took to get my tooth out.) So I'm trying to go off of what friends have told me. Enjoy!

Matt had never been a real picky eater. Foggy had noticed that fact about him fairly early in their friendship. Sure, he tended to stay away from dishes that had a lot of spices in them, but that wasn’t unusual. Foggy knew several people who weren’t crazy about “over-flavored foods” a term one of his cousins used for spicy dishes. Matt was usually willing to try anything at least once, and he definitely had a healthy appetite, always making sure there were a variety of foods on his plate at dinner in the cafeteria. 

Then one evening at dinner, during their second year of law school, Foggy noticed that all Matt had on his plate was mashed potatoes. The next day for lunch, Matt had tomato soup. Foggy didn’t become too overly alarmed until a couple days later when the only thing Matt ate was a chocolate shake around 2:00 in the afternoon. While Matt liked to indulge every now and then, Foggy knew Matt watched his diet carefully, always trying to get the appropriate amount of fruits and vegetables each day, as well as protein so he would have enough energy to exercise regularly. 

Matt was sitting at his desk with his earbuds in and jumped almost a mile high when he felt Foggy’s hand on his forehead.

“Foggy! The Hell?” Matt said, taking his earbuds out. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Sorry, I was just checking to see if you have a fever,” Foggy said, placing his hand back on Matt’s forehead, then pressing the back of his hand to one of his cheeks.

“Why?” Matt asked, pulling away from Foggy. “Foggy, why do you think I’m sick?”

“You’ve been eating weird the past several days.”

“Eating weird? I’ve been eating normal food,” Matt said, confused.

“Yeah, but it’s not common for you to eat nothing but a bowl of mashed potatoes. Or a chocolate milkshake at 2:00 in the afternoon and that’s all you eat, all day.”

“That’s not all I had,” Matt insisted. “I had scrambled eggs for breakfast.”

“You had two bites of scrambled egg and you didn’t even look at the bacon the cafeteria had. You know what I mean!” Foggy said, when he saw Matt’s mouth begin to open, most likely to make some snide comment about never being able to look at any food. “So, what’s wrong?”

“My teeth hurt,” Matt mumbled.

“Wait, teeth, as in more than one?” Foggy asked. “Which ones?”

“Lofm,” Matt mumbled.

“What? I didn’t catch that,” Foggy said.

“All of them,” Matt said quietly, staring down at his hands. 

“All of them?” Foggy asked. “How is that possible? You’re the only person I’ve ever known who actually flosses every single day.”

“They don’t hurt like I have a cavity. They hurt in my jaw. Like something’s trying to push them around.”

“Oh,” Foggy said. “Matt, um, you haven’t had your wisdom teeth taken out have you?”

“No,” Matt said shaking his head. “The orthodontist I had in high school said I didn’t need to have them taken out. That they should come in fine once my teeth were pushed together with the braces I had.” 

Foggy knew Matt had worn braces for 18 months in high school. Matt had shown him the one small photo album he kept in a box under his bed that the nuns had put together for him, more to show to other people than for himself obviously, and Foggy had seen several pictures where Matt had braces on his teeth. He was honestly surprised the orthodontist hadn’t insisted on having them removed. Foggy and his sister Candace had both had theirs taken out before the orthodontist would even do more than look at the x-rays. 

“Do you have a regular dentist you can make an appointment with to get this checked out?” Foggy asked.

“I haven’t been in almost three years, but I used to go to Dr. Goodson. He’s just a regular family dentist though. I doubt he could do anything about this.”

“No, but he could get you in to see an oral surgeon.” Foggy glanced at the calendar. “Depending on how willing offices are to work with you, you might be able to get this taken care of over spring break. That way you don’t have to miss any class. Hey,” Foggy said, suddenly thinking of something. “Want me to ask my mom what oral surgeon she had me and Candace go to? Her office isn’t too far from Mom and Dad’s. You can just spend spring break with me at home. You’ve been at my parents’ several times and you’ll definitely be more comfortable there than in this dorm room after surgery. Candace is spending a semester abroad so she won’t be there and I know Mom and Dad won’t mind.”

“I guess it would be ok….” Matt said. “But Foggy, if I wait long enough the pain will go away, like it always does.” That was the wrong thing to say.

“Like it always does?” Foggy asked. “How often does this happen?”

“Evfwmnths,” Matt mumbled again.

“And again, I didn’t catch that,” Foggy said.

“Every few months,” Matt said, sounding a bit like a three year old who knows he’s in trouble. 

“Matt!” Foggy threw his hands up in the air. “Why have you never said you were in pain?”

More importantly, Foggy thought to himself, why have I never noticed before when he’s in pain?

“It always goes away!” Matt exclaimed. “And why do I have to defend myself over this? I’m the one who’ll have to pay for it; I’m the one who’ll have to go through it; I’m the one who’ll have to spend days not being productive.”

“Matt, calm down, please,” Foggy said, putting his hand on Matt’s shoulder. “I know all of this and yes, depending on how hard it will be for the surgeon to get your teeth out, the few days after will suck. But once you have this done, you won’t keep having surprise attacks of pain. It’ll be over.”

“I hate hospitals and doctors and dentists,” Matt said. 

“I know,” Foggy said gently, cupping Matt’s face with his hand. “Please? I hate knowing you’re in pain, especially now that I know it happens every few months. Just make an appointment with your regular dentist? I’ll get you the name of the oral surgeon I went to and you can ask for her if your dentist says you need to see one. I can go with you if you want.”

Matt was silent for a few seconds. “Fine, I’ll call Dr. Goodson,” Matt finally relented, reaching for his cell phone and hoping the number was still programmed in there. 

“Good,” Foggy said, grabbing his cell phone off his bed and calling his mom to find out which surgeon he had seen back in high school.

And that was why Matt found himself propped up by pillows on the couch at Foggy’s parents’ house on the first day of spring break, with an ice pack that he kept moving from one side of his face to the other. Matt had made the appointment with Dr. Goodson and it had taken him all of five seconds, after looking at the x-rays and inside Matt’s mouth, to decide that yes, Matt needed to have all four wisdom teeth taken out. Matt had asked if he could be referred to Dr. Primm. Dr. Goodson thought very highly of Dr. Primm and was able to get Matt in for a consultation the very next day. 

Of course, Dr. Primm took no time in coming to the same conclusion as Dr. Goodson. Matt’s wisdom teeth had to come out. When Matt was in high school, his teeth had looked like they were going to come in straight. Unfortunately, they shifted a little before they started coming in several years later and when they started to come in, they were angled towards the rest of his teeth. So whenever they began to move around, they would push on the rest of Matt’s teeth, making his gums and jaw hurt. 

Foggy had gone with Matt that morning to his appointment so he would be able to help him home afterwards. They also let Foggy stay with Matt in the procedure room until it was time to begin, which was a good idea, otherwise Matt may have just gotten up and walked out, not wanting to go through with it. 

“Foggy I don’t think I can go through with this,” Matt said nervously, while waiting in the dentist’s chair. 

“You’re gonna be fine,” Foggy said. “You should have taken that anti-anxiety pill they prescribed for you.”

“No, no, I need to be alert,” Matt said. 

“You realize they’re gonna knock you out anyway, right?”

“Yeah, yeah I know,” Matt said. “You sure I have to do this?”

“Matt, buddy, listen to me,” Foggy said gently. “If you don’t, you’re going to just keep having pain when your teeth try to move around.” Foggy had already been holding Matt’s hand, now he reached out and gently stroked Matt’s hair. “This will all be over soon and then you’ll be able to just rest at home, ok?”

Foggy saw the nurse give him a smile as he tried to calm Matt down. Even when the rest of the team came into the room, Foggy didn’t let go of Matt’s hand or stop stroking his hair. The last thing Matt was aware of as he went under was the feeling of Foggy pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead and a whispered, “You’re gonna be fine. See you in a little bit.”

When Matt woke up later, he immediately noticed all the gauze stuffed in his mouth, a feeling that his head was about three times bigger than it should have been, and everything else overloading his senses. “Foggy?” Matt said groggily. “Foggy?”

“Right here Matt, right here,” Foggy said, taking one of Matt’s hands and placing his other hand on Matt’s chest. “It’s over. You just need to rest for a little while and then they have a car that will take us home.”

“Foggy, Foggy,” Matt said, tears welling in his eyes. “I can’t be a lawyer now. They took my wisdom. They took it!”

Foggy was trying his hardest not to laugh. He remembered his sister woke up afraid that she was going to miss the senior prom (she had been a high school sophomore when she had her teeth out) and Foggy’s parents told him he had been very upset over not having a pet T-Rex at home. 

“You’re still going to be a lawyer Matt, trust me,” Foggy said, trying to stifle a laugh. He knew laughing would only make Matt feel worse but a tiny giggle escaped anyway.

“Not funny!” Matt said. 

“I’m sorry,” Foggy said, composing himself. He then felt bad when a few tears leaked out of Matt’s eyes. Fortunately, Matt would remember none of this and Foggy had promised Matt he wouldn’t record any of this happening and he was going to stick to his promise. “Matt, just go back to sleep for now, ok?” He used his thumb to wipe the tears off Matt’s face. “I know you’re overwhelmed and confused but just listen to my voice ok? Concentrate on my voice.”

“I want a night-night story,” Matt said.

“A what?” Foggy asked.

“A night-night story. Happily ever after and once upon a time,” Matt said, beginning to look very worried that Foggy wasn’t going to know what he was talking about.

“Oh, ok,” Foggy said, finally getting it. “Um, ok. How about this. Once upon a time there was a man named, um, Mario! He and his brother Luigi were the best plumbers in the land. Little did the people know they were secretly warriors of, um, Nintendo Land. And then one day Mario heard that a dragon had captured the princess and had put her in a castle.”

“I don’t think that’s right,” Matt mumbled, his eyes going heavy.

“Be quiet and listen,” Foggy said. He continued his story but Matt had fallen back asleep before Mario could get to the first castle and find out the princess was not in that one. 

The next time Matt woke up, he was much more coherent and ready to go home. As soon as they got to Foggy’s parents’ house, Foggy’s mom ushered Matt to the couch, pressing an ice pack wrapped in a towel into his hand. “This will help keep the swelling down,” she said. 

“Thank you Mrs. Nelson,” Matt said. 

“How many times do I have to tell you? Call me Anna, please.”

Matt spent most of that day asleep on the couch. Foggy woke him up a couple times to help him change the gauze in his mouth. “Be glad you’re blind,” Foggy said, grimacing as Matt spit into the sink.

Foggy’s mom woke him up that evening long enough to take some Advil and eat some cream of chicken soup, then he was out again. 

Matt spent the next few days resting. Foggy’s mom doted on Matt, even when Matt insisted that he was feeling back to normal. His mouth was a little sore, but nothing that over-the-counter pain relievers couldn’t take care of. Overall, he had been very lucky that the extractions weren’t too complicated. Of course, Foggy knew that Matt always downplayed any pain he was in, so he figured anyone else would have been taking a low dose of the pain pills that had been prescribed for him. 

He felt bad when he heard Foggy complain about dinner one night. Anna told him to shush. She wasn’t going to cook anything that Matt couldn’t eat and if Foggy had a problem with it, well he could go eat dinner elsewhere. Years later, when Foggy would find out about Matt’s super hearing, he would remember that night and realize that Matt most likely heard him complaining and, was that why Matt looked upset when Foggy found him a little while later sitting on the bed in the guest room, his fingers running over the pages of braille in a book?

Matt had his follow up appointment the next Monday, when his stitches were taken out and the surgeon said he was well on his way to being completely healed. Matt had eaten some macaroni and cheese for dinner, while Foggy devoured three slices of pizza. Later that night, as they were both getting ready for bed, Matt spoke up.

“Hey Foggy, thanks for, you know, staying with me and putting up with me the day of my surgery.”

“It was no problem,” Foggy replied. “You’re my best friend. There was no way I was going to let you go through that without me.”

As Foggy turned out the light and they both crawled into their beds, Matt spoke up one more time. “Hey Foggy, you haven’t taken any of my books have you?”

“No, they’d be no use to me. Why?” he asked, stifling a yawn.

“I don’t know. I just, I’ve had this weird feeling that I was reading a story about a plumber and a dragon and a princess, but I don’t remember how it ended and I thought maybe it was a story I never finished.”

Foggy, holding back a giggle said, “I haven’t moved or taken any of your books, but if I find any on my side of the room, I’ll make sure to give them back. Now, night-night Matt.”

“Night night?” Matt asked. “Ok, Foggy, whatever you say. Good-night.”

Foggy pulled his blankets over his head to muffle his giggling and Matt lay in bed for quite a while that night trying to figure out why a plumber would be involved in a story about a princess and a dragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are my crack, so please leave them! Also, I've decided this is going to be ongoing, whenever I have an idea or get a prompt. If there are any ideas you have for sick!Matt or hurt!Matt, please let me know and I'll try to write them. I'm open to any and all prompts. The only rule is it has to involve Foggy taking care of a sick or injured Matt. (I love these two avocados!)  
> It doesn't necessarily have to be set in their college days, but that's the era I like to write about the most, before the Daredevil days.


	3. Scrapes & Bruises, Part 1: The Emergency Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt is attacked on campus and taken to the emergency room. (Part 1 of, most likely, 3).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was prompted by the scene in season 2 of Daredevil where he gets banged up by Fisk in prison. There's more explanation in the bottom note. Please wait until after you read the chapter before reading the end note. Also, I'm not a doctor, nor do I play one on TV. If any of the medical stuff is off, please forgive me. I did a little research online but not much. I'm writing fanfiction after all, not the next great American classic. :-) Enjoy!

Foggy walked into the small dorm room he and Matt shared, feeling light on his feet. It was 2:00, his Friday classes were over, and the next week was spring break, which meant a whole week without classrooms, professors, and lectures. Sure, he had a paper he needed to complete and several chapters in his textbooks to read, but that could wait. For now, he was free and he was going to enjoy the feeling. He flopped down on his bed and looked at his phone. He had a text message from Matt. “Going to the library to study before they close for the weekend. See you at 7:00 for dinner?” 

Foggy shook his head. The campus libraries would be open next week, but they were all going to be closed this weekend since most of the students would either be going home or somewhere on vacation. Foggy’s parents were going to Texas all of next week for a reunion with friends of his father’s, and Candace’s spring break was the next week, so he had decided to stay with Matt in the dorm over break. He had invited Matt to stay with him at his parents’ house, but Matt had insisted on staying in the dorms so he would be close to the library. So Foggy decided to stay with him, “To keep you from wasting all your spring break in the library,” he had told Matt, but really, it was because he enjoyed Matt’s company and hated knowing Matt would be alone for the whole week if Foggy left.

Foggy quickly typed in his response, “You. Are. A. NERD! Meet you at 7:00 in the cafeteria,” and hit ‘send.’ He then turned on the TV and began flipping through the channels, trying to find something to watch. He heard his phone beep with a text message notification and laughed when he saw Matt’s response. “Stop watching TV and start your homework. I don’t want to have to hear your whining next weekend when you’re trying to do everything on the last day of break.” Foggy typed back, “Whatever Murdock. I am a scholar of the highest quality and you know it.” Foggy settled in after finding a channel that was running an all-weekend marathon of 80s action movies.

A few minutes before 7:00, Foggy grabbed his cell phone and wallet and headed to the one cafeteria on campus that would be staying open over break. This was the cafeteria that undergraduate students typically ate at, since it was the one closest to the undergrad dorms, but since it was also centrally located in the middle of campus it was the one that would stay open for all students spending the break in their rooms. Foggy grabbed a sandwich, chips, soda, and apple, then headed for a seat next to the windows where he could watch the entrance and grab Matt’s attention when he came in. 

Foggy was starving and didn’t see the harm in starting on his food, so he unwrapped his sandwich and opened his chips. It wasn’t until he had finished the sandwich and chips and had started in on his apple that he looked at his watch and noticed Matt was 15 minutes late. He pulled out his phone to check for messages. There were none, so he typed a quick one to Matt. “Hey Buddy. You get sidetracked by a hot chick staying on campus over break? If so, find out if she has a friend for me.”

Ten more minutes passed and Foggy began to grow nervous when Matt still hadn’t shown up, nor had he replied to his message. Foggy hit Matt’s name in his contacts. It rang several times before going to voicemail. “This is Matthew Murdock. I can’t answer the phone right now so please leave a message.” Beeeeeeeep.

“Hey Matt, it’s Foggy. You’re officially way late for dinner. Call me and let me know where you are.” He then hung up. This wasn’t like Matt at all. Matt always called or texted if he was going to be late. Foggy threw his trash away and sat down on a bench outside the cafeteria in case Matt showed up. At 7:45, he called Matt again. 

“Ok, you’re past being way late and into scaring me territory. Call me or text me or something to let me know where you are. Sorry to sound like a suspicious girlfriend, but I’m worried. Call me. Please.” Foggy kept his phone in his hand. He didn’t want to miss any call or text he got. 

At 8:00, Foggy’s phone rang. It was an unknown caller, but the number was a New York City number. “Hello? Matt?” Foggy said, concern evident in his voice.

“Hello, could I please speak with Franklin Nelson?” an unfamiliar female voice asked.

“This is Franklin, I mean, that’s me, speaking,” Foggy said, confused.

“Hi Franklin, my name is Joanna Dowd with Mercy General Hospital. Your name was given to us by Matthew Murdock as his emergency contact.”

Foggy jumped off the bench, heading towards the nearest street to flag down a taxi. 

“What happed to Matt? Is he OK?”

“I can’t tell you anything over the phone other than he was brought into our emergency room at 7:30 this evening. Do you have a way to get here?”

“I’m getting into a cab as we speak,” Foggy said. The nurse on the other end of the phone heard Foggy say, “Mercy General Hospital Emergency Room.” 

“Just come to the main nurses’ station when you get here and we can tell you more then,” she said.

“I’ll be there soon,” Foggy said, then hung up the phone. A million thoughts raced through Foggy’s head. Had Matt missed a step and fallen down a flight of stairs? Had he suddenly been struck ill? Had he been hit by a car? Had a bunch of heavy library books fallen from the top of the stacks and buried him? He knew that last thought was ridiculous, but he couldn’t bear the thought of something more serious and real right now.

Foggy practically threw money at the cab driver as he got out at the emergency room entrance and ran in, looking for the nurses’ station. He found it quickly and, without waiting for anyone to ask how they could help him, he blurted out, “I’m Foggy, uh, Franklin Nelson. I was called about Matt Murdock.” One of the nurses flipped a couple pages on her clipboard muttering, “Murdock, Murdock. Oh yes, here he is. Can I please see some identification first?”

“Seriously?” Foggy said, as he got out his wallet and showed her both his student ID and driver’s license. 

“We have to be sure that you are really you before we release any information, due to HIPAA laws and regulations,” the nurse said, examining both pieces of plastic before handing them back to him. “Mr. Murdock was brought in around 7:30 this evening. Apparently, he was attacked while leaving the law library on the campus of Columbia University.”

“Yeah, we’re both law students there,” Foggy said. “And what do you mean by ‘attacked’?” 

“A group of students, we’re assuming, jumped him as he was coming down the stairs. They took his wallet and cell phone, but left him with his backpack. They got in quite a few good kicks and punches, according to Mr. Murdock. He was left at the bottom of the stairs next to some bushes, bleeding and unconscious. He was found a few minutes after 7:00 when one of the librarians was leaving for the night. She called 911. He woke up before the ambulance and police arrived and begged to not be taken to the ER.”

“Yeah, he really hates hospitals,” Foggy said.

“Don’t we all,” the nurse said. “The librarian has spoken to the police and given a statement. They haven’t spoken to Mr. Murdock yet. They’re going to wait until one of the ER doctors says it’s OK for them to speak to him.”

“May I see him now?” Foggy asked, anxious to get to Matt. He knew Matt hated hospitals and would avoid them at all costs. Foggy was honestly surprised that Matt hadn’t already just gotten up and walked out.

“Of course,” the nurse said, but before she would tell Foggy where Matt was, she handed him a clipboard and said, “There is some paperwork that needs to be filled out.” 

Foggy grabbed the clipboard from her and said, “I’ll fill it out for him after I see him. Now, take. Me. To. Matt,” Foggy said, in a voice that made several people in the ER glance up warily. 

“Follow me,” the nurse said, unfazed by Foggy’s attitude. Foggy figured that he wasn’t the most agitated person she had ever had to deal with, most likely not even that week. She pulled the curtain back to a small ER cubicle and Foggy saw Matt lying on a hospital gurney, propped up by pillows. He stepped inside and the nurse pulled the curtain closed behind him. There was one chair and he pulled it next to Matt. Matt’s eyes had been closed but they opened when he heard the chair pull up next to him.

“Who’s there?” Matt asked.

“It’s me, Foggy,” Foggy said, reaching out and taking Matt’s hand. He gave Matt a quick once-over. The khakis and sweater Foggy had seen him leave the dorm in earlier that day were gone and he had a hospital gown on. There was an IV in his right hand giving him…..fluids? Pain meds? Foggy didn’t know and didn’t really care right then. There was also a blood pressure cuff around Matt’s upper arm. One of Matt’s eyes was beginning to swell shut, his lip was cut open, and he noticed a line of stitches about a half inch long next to his hairline. And that was only what he could see. The nurse had said that the people who had attacked Matt had kicked him. 

“Foggy,” Matt said, breathing a sigh of relief. Foggy felt Matt’s hand tighten in his. “Thank God. Nobody told me if you’d been contacted. Whoever attacked me took my phone and I couldn’t remember your number. So I told the nurse to call the campus police at Columbia to get your number. Were they the ones who called you?”

“No, one of the nurses here did,” Foggy said. He noticed a cup of ice chips on the small counter behind the bed. “Do you want some ice chips?” he asked, picking up the cup.

“Sure,” Matt said, reaching out with his other hand and then wincing when he moved his hand too far and the needle was tugged.

“Here, open your mouth,” Foggy said, taking his hand out of Matt’s and spooning a few ice chips. Matt opened his mouth and let Foggy spoon a few ice chips in, noticing how amazing the ice chips felt in his dry mouth and throat. “More?” Foggy asked.

“Yes, please,” Matt said.

After several minutes of silence while Foggy fed Matt ice chips, Foggy finally asked, “So what exactly happened?”

Matt averted his eyes from Foggy the best he could, with one swelling shut. “It’s embarrassing.”

“I guarantee you it’s not any more embarrassing then the time I fell down the last few steps of a stairway at school and landed in the janitor’s yellow mop bucket. Full of used mop water,” Foggy said.

“Ow, ow, ow,” Matt said, when he gave a small smile and it tugged on the cut on his lip.

“Careful,” Foggy said, taking Matt’s hand again. “Will you please tell me what happened?” 

Matt sighed and then said, “I was leaving the law library to go meet you for dinner. I don’t know how many of them there were, but several people jumped me as I was going down the stairs. They started kicking and punching me.” He stopped and took a deep breath. Foggy took his right hand out of Matt’s left one, replacing it with his left hand. He put his right hand on the back of Matt’s neck, trying to comfort him, but not wanting to hurt him either by touching or rubbing an injured area. “One of them pushed me down. Apparently it tore a hole in my pants and scraped my right knee up.”

“May I?” Foggy asked, letting go of Matt’s hand and placing it right below Matt’s knee. 

“Yeah,” Matt said. Foggy moved the hospital gown just enough to see that Matt had a giant band aid covering his knee. “It didn’t need stitches. They just cleaned it, put some antibiotic ointment on it, and the band aid.” Foggy covered his knee with the gown and took Matt’s hand again. “I don’t really remember a whole lot after than except being punched and kicked. You can see some of the results of that,” Matt said. “I guess at some point I blacked out, because the next thing I remember is coming to in pain and a woman…”

“One of the librarians,” Foggy said.

“Yeah. She said she’d called an ambulance and the police. I don’t know if she called campus police or NYPD.” Matt took a deep, shaky breath. “Foggy I was so scared. I don’t think….I don’t think I’ve been that scared since the day I…..when I….”

“I know,” Foggy said, leaning in and placing a gentle kiss on Matt’s forehead. He knew Matt had been talking about the day he had gotten whatever crap had been in those barrels in his eyes and he had seen the sky for the very last time. Foggy could tell that Matt was trying desperately not to cry.

They both heard the curtain being pulled back. “Hi Mr. Murdock. I’m Dr. Isaacs,” the doctor said. 

“Hi,” Matt said. “This is my friend and roommate, Foggy, Franklin, Nelson.”

“Hi Mr. Nelson,” the doctor said, offering his hand to Foggy to shake. Foggy noticed he hadn’t done that with Matt and figured the doctor had already been informed of his blindness. The doctor flipped through the papers on his clipboard. 

“You weren’t one of the first doctors I saw when I was brought in, were you?” Matt asked.

“No,” Dr. Isaacs said. “We just had a shift rotation. How are you feeling?”

“Sore. Tired. I want to go home,” Matt said, sounding a little like a small child, but not caring right then.

“Well, you’ll have to wait a little while longer. I want to do a full-body CT scan to check for signs of internal bleeding, broken bones, and head trauma.”

“No!” Matt exclaimed. “No, I don’t want to be in one of those machines. No, no, no.” Matt turned to Foggy in a panic. “Foggy, please don’t let them do this. I don’t want it. I just want to go home, please.” Matt was practically begging at this point.

“Mr. Murdock,” the doctor began. Foggy held his hand up to the doctor in a, “Let me,” gesture.

“Hey Matt,” he said, moving as close to him as he could. He kept one of his hands in Matt’s and gently stroked his hair. “It’ll be OK. A CT scan machine is NOT like an MRI machine. It’s not one of those big tube things that your whole body goes into all at once. It’s kinda like a giant donut. Your head will be in the machine for only a couple minutes and then the rest of your body will move through a little at a time.” He glanced over to the doctor for confirmation and he saw the doctor nod his head, letting him know that yes, that was what that machine was like.

“Foggy, I still don’t want to,” Matt said. Foggy could tell that Matt was near tears, so he put his right hand behind Matt’s neck again and leaned in close to his ear to whisper in a soothing tone.

“Matt, you need to get checked out. I know you don’t like this and I don’t blame you. But you don’t want to end up back in the hospital if you leave and there was something wrong, do you?” Matt shook his head. “It’ll be ok.” Foggy placed another gentle kiss on his temple, not caring what the doctor thought.

“Can Foggy stay with me?” Matt asked.

“Unfortunately, nobody is allowed inside the room with the CT scanner except the patient.”

“I’ll go with you all the way to the door to the room and I’ll wait outside for you. I PROMISE,” Foggy said. 

After several long seconds, Matt finally said, “Ok.”

“Good,” the doctor said. He placed the clipboard on Matt’s lap. “I still need a signature from you.”

Foggy guided Matt’s hand to the signature line on the form and Matt scribbled his name. The doctor took the clipboard back. “Someone will be here to take you to the CT scan room in a little bit.”

“Speaking of forms,” Foggy said, after the doctor had left. “I know a lot of this information about you, but not all of it. Help me out here.”

Foggy and Matt spent the next 20 minutes filling out forms, then just sitting quietly together, Foggy only leaving once to get another cup of ice chips for Matt. The rest of the time, Matt wouldn’t let go of Foggy’s hand and, every so often, Foggy would stroke Matt’s hair or place a gentle kiss on his forehead. He knew Matt was much more scared than he was letting on and all he wanted was to get Matt home, to their dorm, where Matt could relax and truly begin to rest. 

Finally, at 10:30, Matt was taken for his CT scan. As promised, Foggy walked beside him while he was being wheeled to the room, stayed right outside the door the whole time, and walked beside him as he was taken to a different area with curtained off cubicles. They were told that the doctor would be in shortly to discuss the CT results and Matt should rest until then. 

“My head hurts,” Matt said. “Can I have some Tylenol or aspirin or something?”

“I’ll bring you a couple Tylenol,” the nurse said. She disappeared and a few minutes later brought two pills in a little cup, along with a small cup of water. Matt gratefully swallowed them.

“Just rest as best you can,” Foggy said. “I won’t leave you.”

Matt closed his eyes but Foggy could tell by his breathing that he never went to sleep. He didn’t figure he would. Matt hated hospitals and was probably too wound up to properly relax. At some point, Foggy didn’t check his watch, the police came in and Matt told them what he had told Foggy. Since Matt no longer had a cell phone, they took Foggy’s number as the contact information for Matt and told him if they had any more questions they would call Foggy’s number, so please try to be available for the next several days. When the doctor finally came back in, it was 2:00 in the morning. 

“Hi Mr. Murdock. Mr. Nelson,” Dr. Isaacs said. “I have the results of your CT scan. You do have a mild, grade 1 concussion. It’s not serious, but I’d like to keep you here for the rest of the night and then possibly release you tomorrow afternoon.”

“No!” Matt said. “I am not staying here. Absolutely not.”

“Matt, calm down,” Foggy said. “They just want to make sure….”

“No!” Matt said. “I know my rights as a patient. Unless you can declare me mentally incompetent and unable to make my own decisions about my health, I want to go home.”

The doctor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. After several seconds of silence the doctor asked, “What month is it?”

“March,” Matt answered.

“And what university do you attend?”

“Columbia. Columbia Law to be more specific.”

The doctor asked several more questions, including who the president was, what color the sky is, and then asked him to count backwards from 25. Matt knew he was testing his neurological functioning and passed with flying colors. 

“Mr. Murdock, just so you know, I am going to document in your file that you checked yourself out against my professional suggestion. Also, I will have one of the nurses call your primary care physician Dr……” he glanced at the chart, “Diane Johnson on Monday morning and schedule a follow-up appointment for you. The nurse will call Mr. Nelson’s number to let you know when the appointment is and I expect you to keep it. The nurse will give you a couple ice packs to take home with you. Use those on your bruised ribs, eye, and lip to help with swelling. I’m also going to have her give you a small tube of antibiotic ointment that you can use on the stitches on your hairline, as well as on your knee. Mr. Nelson, while it’s fine for Mr. Murdock to sleep, and I expect you to, you’ll still need to wake him every 2 to 3 hours for the first 24 hours after arriving home. Just make sure he wakes up easily and then ask him a simple question, something he should easily know the answer to. If you start feeling nauseated, dizzy, your headache gets worse, or you start vomiting, I want you to come back to the ER immediately. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Matt and Foggy said at the same time.

“Ok. A nurse will be in shortly with your discharge papers.” The doctor walked out and Foggy turned to Matt.

“Are you sure you want to leave?”

“Yes,” Matt said. “I just want to rest at home, in my bed. I know it’s the dorms but it’s not a hospital, so that makes it 1000 times better.”

Foggy was hoping that Matt could be talked into going to his parents’ house and resting there, but at this point, he just wanted to get Matt out of the hospital and resting at home. He would try to talk him into going there tomorrow afternoon, after Matt had gotten some rest. 

A nurse came in about 30 minutes later with several small ice packs, a tube of antibiotic ointment that had a pain reliever in it, several small packs of Tylenol and Advil that held two pills each, a plastic bag with Matt’s clothes, shoes, and cane (his sunglasses had been broken, but Foggy knew he had a couple spare pairs in the dorm), his backpack, and a pair of blue scrubs. “His clothes aren’t in the best shape anymore,” the nurse said. “And I figured you weren’t able to get anything for him to wear home with rushing to get here.”

“Thanks,” Foggy said. The nurse gave him a packet of papers, went over a few last instructions, and then had Matt sign a couple different forms. Finally, she pulled the IV out of his hand and took the blood pressure cuff off his arm.

“Ok,” the nurse said. “As soon as you’re dressed, you’re free to leave. Just make sure to leave the curtain all the way open so we know you’re gone. A lot of times, cabs will make a quick swing through the front pickup and drop-off area, if you want to wait for one, or someone at the front desk can call one for you.”

“Thanks,” Foggy said. After the nurse left, he helped Matt change into the scrubs, grabbed everything to take home with them, and then guided Matt to the front of the hospital. Luckily for them, a cab was just pulling in, so they grabbed it and headed back to their dorm.

“Careful,” Foggy said, as he and Matt walked up the steps to their building. “You doing ok?” he asked, as they got on the elevator and went up to their floor.

“Yeah,” Matt said. Foggy could tell by the sound of his voice that he was tired and ready to collapse at any second.

“Just a few more minutes and then you can sleep for a couple hours,” Foggy said, gently rubbing his hand up and down Matt’s back. 

When they got into the room, Foggy led Matt to his bed. “I’m gonna put the ice packs in the little freezer in our fridge. Hope it freezes them,” Foggy said. He had just started to go through the stuff they’d brought home from the hospital when he heard…..

“Foggy?”

Foggy looked up to see Matt sitting on the edge of his bed, his lower lip trembling. He rushed over to Matt and gathered him in his arms the best he could, not wanting to hurt him. The tears poured out of Matt’s eyes then, and Foggy gently rubbed his hand up and down his back and rocked him a little bit. “Shhh….it’s ok Matt. You’re home now and you’re safe. You’re gonna be ok.” He pressed a kiss to Matt’s temple and held him while he cried and, even though Foggy would never admit this, a few tears found themselves leaking out of his eyes too…….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I do realize Matt probably could have taken on those punks who attacked him. However, he also could have taken on Fisk in the prison. His reason for not defending himself against those punks will be explained in one of the other parts.


	4. Scrapes & Bruises, Part 2: Mama Nelson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foggy's mom finds out about what happened to Matt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm beginning to think I should have made this a story by itself, but it's part of this little series now. Oh well. :-)

Foggy held Matt for almost ten minutes while he cried. Foggy knew the stress and fear of everything that happened in the past 8 hours had finally gotten to him and Foggy wasn’t going to try and rush Matt through whatever emotions he needed to process. Matt finally began to calm down and he pulled away from Foggy.

“Sorry,” he said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “You must be tired. I don’t want to keep you from getting some sleep.”

“Hey,” Foggy said, putting a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about me. I won’t be able to rest anyway until I know that you’re comfortable and resting.”

“My head still hurts,” Matt said. 

“It probably will for a while,” Foggy said. “Do you want some ibuprofen? You can’t have any more Tylenol for another couple hours, but you can have one of the Advil packets the nurse gave you.”

“Yes, please,” Matt said. “I’m going to change into something more comfortable to sleep in.” Matt started to get up, but he felt a hand gently pushing him back down on the bed.

“I’ll get you some sweats and a t-shirt,” Foggy said. “You stay here.”

“Foggy, I have to use the bathroom,” Matt said, standing up again.

“Oh. Do you….do you, um, need any help?”

“No, I’m OK. I’ll try not to fall down or anything,” Matt said.

“OK,” Foggy said warily. For a few seconds, Foggy wondered if he had made a mistake in not trying harder to convince Matt to stay in the hospital overnight, but he knew that Matt would most likely begin to recover faster in the dorms than the hospital. When Matt came out of their tiny bathroom, Foggy had clothes for Matt laid out on his bed, complete with a pair of fuzzy socks Foggy’s mom had bought Matt for Christmas. Matt changed, looking very wobbly on his feet. Foggy stood at the ready to help him, or catch him if he fell over, but he knew Matt would want to do as much as he could by himself. After Matt had changed and crawled into bed, breathing a deep sigh of relief as he did, Foggy handed him two Advil and a glass of water. “I want you to drink all of that,” Foggy said. “I don’t want you getting dehydrated.” 

While Matt drank the water, Foggy grabbed one of his two pillows off his own bed and brought it over to Matt. “Here. This’ll help you keep your head propped up. You should keep from lying flat for the next couple days to keep your eye from getting worse.” Foggy noticed that it hadn’t swollen all the way shut, but he was definitely going to have that shiner for a couple weeks. Foggy then went into the bathroom and ran a small washcloth under the cold water. He gently laid it on Matt’s forehead and swollen eye. “You’re not supposed to sleep with an ice pack, plus they’re not frozen yet anyway, but this should help some.”

“Thanks,” Matt said, already sounding half asleep.

“You’re welcome. I’m going to wake up every few hours like I’m supposed to. Promise me that if you start feeling worse, you’ll let me know and I’ll take you back to the hospital.”

“I promise,” Matt mumbled, before finally drifting off to sleep.

Foggy changed into something to sleep in, set his alarm for 2 ½ hours from then, turned off the light, and crawled into his own bed. Foggy wasn’t much of a prayer person, but that night he said a silent ‘thank you’ to whatever god happened to be listening that Matt, though scraped and bruised, was alive and didn’t have any life-threatening or debilitating injuries. Sure, he’d be a little stiff and sore for the next several days, but stiff and sore is way better than unconscious or dead. Foggy rolled over and lay in bed listening to Matt breathing in that deep sleep way he’d become accustomed to over the past almost two years, until he too fell asleep.

Foggy made sure to get up every couple of hours and wake Matt up. Each time, Matt would open his eyes and mumble a correct response to whatever question Foggy asked him. What’s your middle name? What’s my middle name? What’s the name of the gym where your dad boxed?

Finally, Foggy decided to just stay awake around noon the next day. He was debating whether or not to wake Matt up and make him eat something, realizing that it had been probably close to 24 hours since he’d last eaten, when his phone rang. He quickly answered it with a soft, “Hello?” not wanting to wake up Matt just yet.

“Foggy, thank God. Was it Matt? It was Matt wasn’t it?”

“What? Mom, what are you talking about?” Foggy asked, stepping out into the hall, leaving the door open a crack so he could hear if Matt woke up.

“My friend Donna works in the emergency room of Mercy General Hospital. We met for brunch this morning and she asked if I’d heard about the blind student from Columbia who was attacked on campus last night.”

So much for HIPAA laws Foggy thought to himself, but then again, it wasn’t like Donna would know that Foggy’s mom knew a blind Columbia student. “Yeah,” Foggy said. “This is what happened….” 

As Foggy filled his mom in on what had happened, Matt woke up in their dorm. He could hear Foggy on the phone out in the hall. He didn’t want to bother him, so he got up, used the restroom, and then began making himself a packet of oatmeal in their microwave. His lip wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought it would be, so eating probably wouldn’t be an issue. He could tell that his eye was definitely swollen and his right knee hurt some, but the nurse had said it wasn’t anything worse than her 5 year old niece had had a few weeks earlier after tripping on the sidewalk. His head and his ribs were the worst. He was lucky his ribs were just bruised and not broken, but they still made breathing slightly painful and he figured he’d have a mild headache for a while. He had just finished his oatmeal and was debating whether or not to take a shower, since he didn’t know if he was allowed to get the few stitches on his forehead wet or not, when Foggy came back in.

“Matt, hey, how are you feeling?”

“I’m still pretty sore and I’m still kinda tired. But I was also hungry so I made some oatmeal. Do you know if I’m allowed to get these stitches wet? I want to take a shower.”

“Wait a second, I saw something in this bag the nurse sent home with you,” Foggy said, digging through it. The nurse had slipped a few of the large band aids in Matt’s bag for his knee as well as some clear plastic strips that could be placed over the stitches on his head. “Here they are,” Foggy said triumphantly. “These are waterproof stitch protection strips. They can be placed over your stitches for short amounts of time so you can take a shower without getting them wet.” Foggy set the strips down. “Matt, um, before you take a shower, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Uh-oh,” Matt said. “What’s wrong?”

“Well, nothing’s wrong, per se,” Foggy said, fidgeting nervously. “But apparently my mom is friends with a woman who’s an E.R. nurse at Mercy General. They had brunch this morning and she told my mom about a blind Columbia student being attacked on campus last night. Mom called asking if it was you and, I couldn’t lie to her, so I told her what happened.”

“That’s OK,” Matt said. “I don’t mind if your mom knows.”

“That’s not all,” Foggy said. “She’s not going with Dad to Texas to visit his friends. She’s going to drop him off at the airport and then come by and pick up both of us for the week. She wants you at home with her so she can make sure you’re being properly taken care of, like I can’t take care of you or something. I can tell her no, if you want,” Foggy said. He didn’t mention that he had been going to try to talk Matt into going with him to his parents’ house to recover, but that was when he thought his parents were going to be gone.

“No, that’s ok,” Matt said. “I like your mom and her place is probably much more comfortable than this dorm.”

“Ok. She said she’ll be here between 4:00 and 4:30, so we’ve got some time. Waterproof strip?” Foggy asked.

“Yes, please,” Matt said, then he felt Foggy gently place the strip over his stitches. 

While Matt took a shower, Foggy ate a granola bar then packed two bags, one for him and one for Matt. He also made sure to get his and Matt’s backpacks with their textbooks, as well as Matt’s screen reader, and their laptops. He knew Matt would be itching to get started on his homework and wouldn’t be happy if he didn’t have it. He also called the residence life office and informed the person on duty that he and Matthew Murdock would not be in the dorms over spring break after all. The person said they would make a note of it in their computer and to let them know if they ended up coming back before the dorms officially reopened at noon the next Sunday.

After Matt’s shower, Foggy took one and then they waited for Foggy’s mom. Foggy plugged in his earbuds and watched a movie on his laptop, while Matt popped a couple Tylenol and just lay on his bed. Foggy made him place one of the ice packs on his ribs and another on his eye, figuring it would also help with his headache. He wanted to ask Matt what he was thinking about, since he could tell that Matt wasn’t sleeping, but decided not to. 

A little after 4:00, there was a knock on the door. “That’s probably Mom,” Foggy said, getting up and heading to the door. As soon as he opened the door, Foggy’s mom walked right past him to Matt. 

“Oh Matt,” Foggy’s mom said, sitting down next to him on the bed. She took in his swollen eye, cut lip, stitches, and the ice pack he was holding against his ribs. He had on sweatpants, so she couldn’t see the giant band aid that Foggy had put there after applying more antibiotic ointment after Matt had showered. “How are you feeling?”

“I could be worse,” Matt said. “But I’ve definitely been better. Anna, I really appreciate you letting me stay with you and Foggy at your house, but I don’t want to be a bother.”

“You’re not going to be any bother. Honestly, I wasn’t really looking forward to this trip to Texas anyway. Edward gets around those old friends of his and they all turn into idiots.”

“Mom!” Foggy exclaimed.

“Well they do. That’s why I’m ok with only seeing them once every 10 years. Now, is there anywhere you two need to go before we head home?”

“I don’t think so,” Foggy said.

“Alright, let’s go. Matt, I hope you like potato soup because I have some cooking in the crock pot for dinner.”

“I love potato soup,” Matt said.

Foggy grinned, knowing full well his mom knew potato soup was Matt’s favorite soup. Whenever Foggy talked to his mom on the phone, she always insisted on speaking to Matt for a few minutes if he was there. If he wasn’t there, Foggy’s mom would grill him on how he was. No question seemed to be off limits. Has Matt been eating fruits and vegetables every day? Has he been sleeping enough at night? Did he get his flu shot? Was he using protection with his lady-friends? Foggy had stopped his mom right there when she asked about Matt’s sex life and told her to never ask about that again. He remembered his mom getting huffy and responding with, “Fine. Are YOU using protection with YOUR lady-friends?”

Foggy sat in the back of the car with Matt on the drive to his parents. As soon as they walked in the door, the smell of potato soup and just a general scent of ‘home’ hit Matt in the face and Foggy saw him visibly relax.

“The room you normally stay in is all ready for you Matt,” Anna said. “Are either of you hungry? The soup should be ready soon.”

“I’m hungry,” Matt said. “But I can wait to eat until both of you are ready.”

“I haven’t eaten since brunch this morning, so I am definitely ready for supper. Foggy, why don’t you help Matt get settled in and then we’ll eat.”

“Sure,” Foggy replied. He walked Matt to the downstairs guest room he always stayed in. “Are you going to be ok down here? You can have my room upstairs and I can sleep in Candace’s room. She’ll never know.”

“No, this is fine,” Matt said. “It’s what I’m used to.”

After dinner, where Matt ate two bowls of potato soup under the watchful eyes of Anna Nelson, they all settled down in the living room where Anna experienced her first movie with audio description. Matt took a couple more Advil and Foggy made him put another ice pack on his ribs and eye. After the movie, Anna declared herself ready to go to bed.   
“Goodnight boys,” she said, bending down and placing a kiss on Foggy’s forehead and then one on Matt’s. “Don’t stay up too late, especially you Matthew. You need to rest.”

“Yes ma’am,” Matt said. After she had gone upstairs, Matt turned to Foggy. “I know I’ve said this before but your mom’s really awesome.”

“She loves you Matt,” Foggy said. “I know her and Dad had wanted to have another baby after Candace, but it just never happened. Mom and Dad both really care about you and would be there for you in a heartbeat if you needed them. And so would I,” Foggy said.

“I know,” Matt said. “Are you supposed to wake me up again tonight?”

“I don’t think so,” Foggy said. “I read over the paperwork and it’s been 24 hours since your head injury, and you haven’t gotten worse or experienced any worrisome symptoms, so I think you’re good.”

“Good, I’m going to bed then. Somebody kept poking me and waking me up last night,” he said, grinning as best he could without tugging on his cut lip.

“Want some company until you fall asleep?”

“Yeah,” Matt said. So Foggy stayed with Matt stroking his hair until he fell asleep. He knew that always comforted Matt and helped him sleep better and Foggy also wanted to have some physical contact with Matt to make sure he was really there and safe. After Matt had been asleep for several minutes, Foggy went back out to the living room, turned the TV’s volume down, and popped in another DVD.

The next morning, when Anna came downstairs to make some coffee, she saw Foggy asleep on the couch. It had been made up with sheets and pillows, and she smiled when she realized that Foggy had deliberately stayed downstairs in case Matt needed him. She went on into the kitchen, deciding to drink some coffee and read the Sunday paper. She would wake both boys in a couple hours, if they didn’t wake up before then, and ask if they wanted pancakes or waffles for Sunday breakfast.

TO BE CONTINUED.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no clue if those little plastic strip thingies exist, but if they don't, they should. 
> 
> Comments are my crack, so feel free to comment away!


	5. Scrapes & Bruises, Part 3: Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt begins having nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a shorter chapter, but has lots of comfort in it for Matt. To my regular readers, I'm really beginning to spoil all of you with how fast I'm cranking these chapters out. I've just really gotten into this little story I started.

Sunday started out as a fairly uneventful day. Anna woke both Matt and Foggy around 9:00 and made waffles. Matt ate two with syrupy sweet strawberries on them. After taking showers, Matt made Foggy sit in the living room with him and start reading in one of their textbooks. This was a class they had together, so Matt figured they could talk about the chapters when they finished and be prepared for the discussion they would have in class the first day back from spring break. 

Anna watched both boys carefully, smiling when she saw Foggy dabbing antibiotic ointment on his stitches and knee for him. Anna, like many parents, had had doubts through the years over the kind of job she and Edward were doing with Foggy and Candace. Watching her son take care of Matt, she felt very proud of him. She knew Matt could have ended up with a horrible roommate and, from what Foggy had told her, knew that Matt hadn’t had the best of luck with roommates in undergrad. None of them had been mean or treated him badly, but they had all apparently felt a bit jilted that they had to live with the blind guy who didn’t like to go out and party. 

“Matt,” she heard Foggy say. “That’s the third time you’ve yawned in the past 10 minutes. Do you want to take a nap?”

“Yeah, a nap might be a good idea,” Matt said. “Promise you’ll keep studying while I sleep? I don’t want you putting off all your work until next weekend.”

“I promise,” Foggy said. 

So while Foggy continued to study, Matt went into his room and lay down, hoping to get a couple hours in before waking up. Unfortunately, he had only been asleep for 30 minutes when the nightmare started. He was leaving the library when a group of faceless men started attacking him. Only this time, they didn’t stop once he was down and out. They started dragging him towards a car. In his dream, Matt knew he was going to be put in the trunk.

Meanwhile, out in the living room, Foggy heard Matt start to yell, “No! No! Please don’t!” He was on his feet in a flash, but Anna, who happened to be walking past Matt’s room when he began to cry out, got to him first.

She sat beside Matt on his bed and gently started to shake him awake. “Matt. Matt honey, wake up. Wake up.”

Matt bolted up in bed, tears streaming down his face. She placed a gentle hand on Matt’s cheek. “It’s ok, Matt, it’s ok. Nobody’s going to hurt you.”

“Anna?” Matt asked. “Where’s Foggy?”

“Right here,” Foggy said. Matt felt the mattress shift as Anna stood up and Foggy sat down next to him. Foggy gathered Matt in his arms, rubbing his hand up and down his back while cupping the back of Matt’s head with his other hand. “It’s ok. I’m right here.” 

“I’m still here too sweetie,” Anna said, placing a hand on Matt’s shoulder. Anna and Foggy stayed with Matt while he cried. Anna, a little unsure of what to do, just hoped her presence was a comfort to Matt. It was obvious that Foggy knew exactly what to do and she wondered how often Foggy had comforted Matt when he had nightmares. 

After several minutes, Matt pulled away from Foggy. Foggy pressed several tissues into Matt’s hand and patiently waited while he wiped his eyes and blew his nose. “Great,” Matt said. “Now my eye hurts again, and my head.”

“Mom, can you get Matt some Advil and an ice pack?”

“Of course,” Anna said. She left and returned several minutes later with two Advil, a glass of cold water, an ice pack, and a cool wet washcloth. 

“Thanks,” Foggy said, taking them from her. She watched Foggy gently wipe Matt’s face, trying to cool him down a little bit. He was obviously overheated. She stayed in the room while Matt took the Advil and drank the glass of water. 

“I’ll take the empty glass,” she said, and Foggy handed it over to her. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will Mom,” Foggy said, placing the ice pack on Matt’s eye.

Anna walked out of the room and busied herself in the kitchen. An hour later, Foggy came in. “How’s Matt?”

“Asleep again. I left the door cracked so I can hear…….Mom what are you doing?” he asked, as Anna pulled Foggy into a tight hug.

“I am so proud of you. You have never once made any complaints about having a blind roommate and the way you treat Matt…..” she trailed off.

“You know I wanted a brother and not Candace, right?” Foggy joked.

“And now you have one,” Anna said.

“Yeah, yeah I do.” Foggy smiled.

“What would you like for dinner later?”

Foggy, knowing that Matt loved his mom’s chicken and dumplings suggested that dish for dinner, and Anna got busy getting things ready to make her homemade dumplings. 

Matt slept peacefully until Foggy woke up him up. “Dinner will be ready in an hour or so. Didn’t figure you’d want to eat chicken and dumplings right after waking up.”

“Your mom’s making chicken and dumplings? Awesome,” Matt said, making no mention of the nightmare. Foggy knew Matt would talk about it when he was ready. After Foggy’s mom had left them in Matt’s room, Foggy had asked Matt what the nightmare was about, but he refused to say anything. So Foggy had just sat with him, stroking his hair and rubbing his back until he had fallen asleep.

Matt ate a good sized portion of dinner and then insisted on helping with clean up. Matt was determined to study more after they had cleaned up, but Foggy thought it would be a good idea for him to just relax. So they compromised. If Foggy wouldn’t bug Matt for one hour, while he finished the chapters he had started earlier, he would read one of the fiction books that Foggy had thrown in his bag for him until he was ready to go to bed for the night. Foggy decided that was a fair compromise.

Even with his nap, Matt was ready to go to bed around 9:00 that night. “I don’t know why I’m so tired. It’s not like I did much today,” Matt said, as Foggy helped him with his shirt. He was still a little stiff and sore from his bruised ribs. 

Your body needs to heal,” Foggy said. “Do you need anything before you go to sleep?”

“No, I’m good,” Matt said. 

“Ok. I’ll be awake for a while longer if you need anything.”

“Thanks Foggy,” Matt said, as he pulled the blankets over himself.

Foggy went back into the living room and settled down in front of the TV. His mom had gone upstairs to read a book, so he made sure to keep the volume down. He was about halfway through his movie and debating whether or not to stay on the downstairs couch again that night when he heard, “No! Please don’t! No!” He was off the couch and in Matt’s room, moving faster than he thought was possible.

“No, no, no!” Matt was thrashing around his bed. 

“Matt, Matt, it’s ok. Wake up buddy. You’re having another bad dream.” Foggy gently shook Matt until his eyes opened. “It’s ok,” Foggy said, placing a hand on Matt’s chest and rubbing gentle circles. “You were having a bad dream again.”

Matt pushed himself up in bed, reached out to Foggy, and let himself relax into Foggy’s hug. When Foggy started to pull back, Matt tightened his grip, even though it hurt his ribs. 

“Hey,” Foggy said gently. “I’m just going to go get a cold washcloth for you, ok? I’ll be right back.”

“Can I have some Tylenol or Advil?” Matt asked. 

“Of course,” Foggy said. Foggy gathered the few things he needed as quickly as possible, and went back to Matt. 

“Hey Foggy,” Matt said, as he got comfortable in bed again. “Stay with me?”

“I’m not going anywhere until you’re asleep.”

“Thanks,” Matt said. He fell asleep to the feeling of his hair being stroked by Foggy. Foggy slept downstairs again but, thankfully, Matt slept peacefully through the night. 

TO BE CONTINUED.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Matt's nightmares will continue in the next part. You didn't think I was going to let him off that easily, did you? As always, comments are very welcome.


	6. Scrapes & Bruises, Part 4: Recovery Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More of Matt's recovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will probably only be one more part to this story. Unless the creative gods give me directions for more story. :-) As always, comments are my crack, so please feel free to let me know what you think.

Foggy was woken up the next morning by the ringing of his phone. “Lo?” he answered groggily.

“Good morning,” said an all too chipper female voice on the other end of the line. “Is this Franklin Nelson I am speaking to?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s me,” Foggy said, pushing himself up on the couch and wiping his eyes. A glance at the living room clock said the time was 8:30.

“Is Matthew Murdock available?” the voice asked.

“Just a second,” Foggy said, untangling himself from his blanket and walking across the hall to peak in the door to Matt’s room. “He’s still asleep. May I take a message?”

“This is Diane Johnson’s office. A nurse from Mercy General Hospital called this morning to make an appointment for Matthew Murdock as a follow-up to his visit to the emergency room last Friday night.”

“Oh, right, right,” Foggy said, finally understanding the reason for the early call. “I know he’s available, so you can just let me know what time the appointment is and I’ll make sure he gets there.”

“That’s fine,” she replied. “We were able to work him in at 11:00 this morning.”

“I’ll make sure he’s there,” Foggy said.

After hanging up the phone, Foggy went upstairs to shower and change. Around 9:00, he went into Matt’s room and gently shook him awake. 

“Morning,” Foggy said.

“Nnnspppmkl,” Matt mumbled, his face buried in his pillow.

“No time to be a sleepy head this morning,” Foggy said. “Your doctor’s office called and you have an 11:00 appointment. I promised the nurse that called that I would get you there. Don’t make me a liar Murdock.”

Matt pushed himself up in bed. Foggy noticed that he didn’t seem quite as stiff as he had the past couple mornings. 

“I’m up, I’m up,” Matt said. Foggy and Matt both heard his stomach growl. “And hungry,” Matt said, a bit sheepishly. 

“Mom left a note in the kitchen that said she’s running some errands this morning and will be back this afternoon. Do you want me to cook something for breakfast or do you just want something simple?”

“Simple’s fine,” Matt said, following Foggy into the kitchen. 

“Cheerios it is then,” Foggy said, pouring two bowls. Foggy and Matt ate in silence for a couple minutes, then, “So about last night…..” Foggy began.

Matt stopped with the spoon halfway to his mouth. “Foggy, I don’t want to talk about it. It was just a stupid nightmare.”

“That you had twice,” Foggy said. “Matt, I’ve seen you have nightmares before. Those were nothing compared to how upset you were after these.”

“I said I’m fine,” Matt said, getting up from the table. “I’m going to go take a shower. Do I still need to put one of those plastic stitch protector strips on?”

“No,” Foggy said. “It’s been a little more than 48 hours since they were put in. You’re good now.”

“Ok. Listen Foggy, I’m sorry I snapped at you just now, it’s just….I just don’t really want to talk about it yet. Things are still kind of intense for me. I just keep thinking….”

“What?” Foggy asked, getting up from the table and standing in front of Matt.

“Nothing,” Matt said, closing his eyes and sighing. “Nothing.” Matt reached out and found Foggy’s arm and pulled him into a hug. Foggy wrapped his arms around Matt and rubbed his hand up and down his back. They hugged for almost a minute before Matt pulled away. “I guess I need to go take that shower and get ready for my appointment.”

“Mom took the car, so I’ll call a cab and ask to be picked up at 10:15,” Foggy said.

“Sounds good,” Matt replied, then headed to the downstairs bathroom to take a shower. As he let the hot water run over his body, he thought about the two nightmares he had had. In both, faceless men had been attacking him as he left the law library at Columbia. In the second dream however, he had heard Foggy crying for help, but he couldn’t get to him. Matt made a fist but restrained himself from punching the wall. He knew punching the tile would only hurt himself and he didn’t need another injury. 

“Damn Stick,” Matt thought to himself. Stick had instilled in him that he should never show his fighting abilities when people would be able to recognize him. They had to be kept a secret. Like it wasn’t bad enough that he had had to let himself get beaten up. If it had been only one or two people, Matt probably could have fended them off without raising too much alarm in his fighting abilities. After all, his dad had been a boxer and he hadn’t always been blind. Matt knew he would heal. He had had worse through the years before Foggy had met him. Matt’s concern now was wondering if Foggy ever needed him, would Matt obey what Stick had said and keep his abilities to himself, or would he reveal what he could do if it meant protecting his best friend, his brother? He knew that was partially why he was having nightmares. Whenever he was torn between the two people he felt inside of himself, the law school student who just wanted to make good grades, good friends, and have a little fun, and the fighter who hated when others picked on people who seemed like easy targets, his indecision would manifest in nightmares. The difference between now and just a couple years ago, however, was he now had Foggy who noticed if he cried out in his sleep or didn’t get a good night’s rest. The roommates he had been assigned in undergrad either never noticed or didn’t care.

Matt decided to worry about all this later, turned off the water, and stepped out of the shower. He decided it would be best to dress in jeans instead of sweats, since he was going to be out in public. He felt around the night stand next to his bed until he found the tube of antibiotic ointment, then put some on his knee and stitches. He could tell that his eye wasn’t swollen nearly as bad as it had been.

“Hey Foggy!” Matt yelled, coming out of his room.

“Yeah?” he heard Foggy reply from the living room. 

“Do you mind if we stop and I get a new cell phone, once we’re done at the doctor’s office? I need to make sure I have one that’s set up for my needs.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Foggy said. 

“Great,” Matt replied.

At 11:00, Matt and Foggy were sitting in hard plastic chairs at Diane Johnson, M.D.’s office. At 11:15, Foggy sighed and said, “Your appointment was at 11:00. Why are we still waiting?”

“Foggy, chill,” Matt said. “I’m sure they just squeezed me in wherever they could fit me. Honestly, if I had called myself, they probably would have had me wait until tomorrow. It’s only because an E.R. nurse called that I was able to get in today.”

Foggy just sighed again. Finally, at 11:35, the door opened and a nurse said, “Matthew.”

“Want me to go back with you?” Foggy asked.

“Yes, please,” Matt said, taking Foggy’s arm and letting him guide him into the back area.

The nurse did the usual height, weight, blood pressure, pulse, and temperature check, then left Matt and Foggy alone in the room. After several minutes, the doctor knocked on the door and came in.

“Hi Matt,” she said, flipping through his chart. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better than I was a couple days ago,” he said. “This is my friend and roommate, Foggy Nelson.”

“Hi Foggy,” Dr. Johnson said, holding her hand out for him to shake. “So I see you decided to try nighttime crime fighting, huh?” She joked. 

Matt smiled. “Obviously, it didn’t go too well.”

“Maybe next time,” she said. “I’ve got your chart here from the E.R. visit Friday night. Anything besides the scraped knee, bruised ribs, swollen eye, cut lip, mild concussion, and stitches next to your hairline?”

“Isn’t that enough?” Foggy asked.

“I just need to make sure nothing was discovered or began hurting after he was released that needs to be checked out.”

“No, that’s all. My eye and head don’t hurt as much as they did. My ribs are still sore, but it doesn’t hurt as badly to breathe anymore.”

“Your head still hurts?” Foggy asked. “Why didn’t you say anything? I would have made sure you took some Tylenol or Advil.”

“It’s not a big deal, Foggy. It’s hardly anything now,” Matt insisted.

Dr. Johnson smiled. “Just make sure to ask for some pain medication or help if you need it Matthew. Now, I’m just going to do a quick check to see how you’re healing.”

Dr. Johnson examined Matt gently but thoroughly, asking questions and getting answers from Foggy when needed, such as how any bruises looked compared to when they first happened.

“I think you’re healing fine,” she said, as she finished examining Matt’s ribs. “The bruised ribs and the eye will take the longest to heal completely. You can keep using ice packs on your ribs to help relieve some of the pain, but start using warm compresses on your eye to get blood flowing again there. Tylenol and Advil are fine. I want you to come back preferably sometime on Wednesday, absolutely no later than Friday morning, and one of the nurses will take your stitches out. Keep using the antibiotic ointment on them until then.”

“Thanks Dr. Johnson.” Matt hopped down from the exam table as best he could. “Do you mind if I use one of the restrooms back here real quick?”

“That’s fine,” she said. “Just make a right when you leave this room and there’s a bathroom at the end of the hall. I’ll give your checkout papers to Mr. Nelson.”

After Matt had gone down the hall, Dr. Johnson turned to Foggy. “Foggy, may I call you Foggy?”

“Sure,” he replied.

“I’ve been Matthew’s doctor for many years now. When I was first starting out, the doctor I worked with went to St. Agnes’s Orphanage every couple of months to give checkups to the children, and also to provide medical aid if any of them were sick or injured. It’s where I first met Matt. I started my own practice at the same time that he graduated high school, and, he’s been coming here since then. I’m sure you know by now that he tends to downplay how he’s feeling, both physically and emotionally.”

“Yeah, I figured that out a while back,” Foggy said.

“I know this is against all medical protocol but,” she handed Foggy a business card, “I know Matthew would deny it if he’s having any kind of mental or emotional struggles with what happened. This is the name of an excellent counselor. If you think he needs to talk to someone, Dr. David Hill is very good and he would have no issues with you attending sessions with Matt either. If you or Matthew make an appointment with him, make sure to mention my name and his office will work you in fairly quickly.”

“Thank you,” Foggy said, slipping the card into his wallet as he saw Matt coming back down the hall. “Ready?” he asked Matt, offering his arm.

“Yep, let’s go,” Matt said.

After they left Dr. Johnson’s office, they stopped at a Best Buy, where Matt got a new phone. When they arrived home, Anna was there. 

“Hi boys,” she said, giving them each a kiss on the cheek. “I know it’s a little early for dinner, but I haven’t eaten since breakfast this morning. How do you two feel about ordering pizza?”

“Great!” they said at the same time. Neither of them had eaten since that morning either and the Cheerios had long since worn off.

“Foggy, I know you’ll want pepperoni. Matthew what about you?”

“Pepperoni is fi…” he was cut off by Foggy.

“Ham. Matt’s favorite is ham.”

“Oh, I don’t want to be a bother with the pizza,” Matt said.

“Nonsense,” Anna replied. “I’ll order a small veggie for myself and a large half ham, half pepperoni for you two to share.”

“Sounds great Mom,” Foggy said.

“Now, study time until the pizza gets here,” Matt said.

“Oh maaaan!” Foggy whined, but settled in the living room with Matt to study.

After an early dinner, Anna left to attend her book club and Foggy got out the deck of playing cards that had braille and regular numbers on them. They decided they didn’t have enough people to get a good game of poker going, so they settled for Go Fish instead.

Foggy noticed Matt beginning to yawn around 7:00. “I think you should go to bed.”

“No, no, I’m good for a while longer. How about a movie?” Matt asked.

Foggy was going to press the issue and then decided against it. “Ok, movie it is.”

They settled on the couch with a bowl of popcorn, but it was no surprise to Foggy that 20 minutes in, Matt’s head was resting on Foggy’s shoulder and he was fast asleep. Foggy turned the volume down, took the audio description off, and put the closed captioning on in case he missed any dialogue with the volume down. The movie was almost over when Matt started to stir. 

“No!” he yelled. “No! Leave him alone!” Fortunately Foggy was right next to Matt, and began gently shaking him. 

“Matt, wake up. Matt, it’s ok, wake up,” Foggy said.

Matt jolted awake, inadvertently knocking the almost empty bowl of popcorn to the floor. Foggy pulled him into a hug. “It’s ok, I’m right here, I’m right here.”

“Foggy,” Matt breathed in a sigh of relief. “Foggy.”

“Yeah, buddy, I’m here.” Foggy rubbed Matt’s back soothingly. He really wanted to ask Matt who the ‘him’ he was yelling about was, but decided not to press the issue. 

Foggy and Matt sat quietly together for a while and Foggy noticed that each time Matt started to drift to sleep again, he would jerk himself awake. 

“You need to sleep,” Foggy said.

“I can’t. I just can’t,” Matt said.

“Would it help if I slept in the same bed with you tonight?” Foggy asked.

“Maybe, I don’t know,” Matt said. “I hate this!” he suddenly yelled, picking up the throw pillow that was next to him on the couch and throwing it across the room, thankfully missing the antique vases Anna had displayed. “This isn’t…..this isn’t what I’m supposed to be like,” Matt said, burying his face in his hands.

“What are you supposed to be like then?” Foggy asked. “Able to immediately recover from being attacked? Impervious to worrying if it’s going to happen again? Able to take on several people who can see when you can’t? Leap tall buildings in a single bound? Tell me, what are you supposed to be like?”

“Not this,” Matt said softly.

“Come on,” Foggy said, turning off the TV and pulling Matt up. “You’re going to change into something to sleep in and then lie down. If you don’t want to go to sleep, I’m not going to try and force you. But you need to rest and I will stay with you in bed, unless you tell me otherwise.”

“Ok,” Matt said.

“Good,” Foggy replied. “Now you change while I go upstairs and change. I’ll be right back.”

Ten minutes later, Matt and Foggy were lying together in the double bed. 

“I’m not closing my eyes,” Matt said. 

“That’s fine.”

“And don’t rub my back or stroke my hair. You know that puts me to sleep.”

“Keep all hands inside the ride at all times. Got it.”

“And don’t,” Matt stifled a yawn. “Don’t try and tell me some stupid bedtime story either.” 

“No entertainment. Got it.”

“And don’t….and don’t,” Matt drifted off to sleep.

Foggy placed a gentle kiss on Matt’s forehead and closed his own eyes. 

Unfortunately, Matt woke up twice that night crying and yelling. Foggy held him and calmed him down, wiped his face with a cool washcloth, and gave him some Advil when he started to complain of a headache. Foggy didn’t get much sleep that night either, as he lay in bed wondering just what he could do to help Matt. He hated seeing him like this, but if Matt wasn’t going to ask for help, there wouldn’t be much Foggy could do about it.

TO BE CONTINUED....


	7. Scrapes & Bruises, Interlude 1: Foggy & Mama Nelson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foggy and Mama Nelson have a chat about Matt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's been quite some time since I updated this! I got busy with life, then kind of forgot about it, then re-read what I had written and had to decide if I still wanted to go the route I had been heading down or if I wanted to change things a bit for my ending. I decided I needed to add a few things in, without having to go back and re-write/edit/re-post the story. So here is an interlude, from Foggy and Mama Nelson's perspectives. I'm also going to write an interlude for Matt before wrapping things up. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Foggy woke up early the next morning and groaned when he felt the crick in his neck. He was going to have to drop hints to his parents about getting a better mattress and new pillows for the bed. He slipped out of bed, used the bathroom, then went into the kitchen where he found Anna sitting at the table, drinking a cup of coffee and reading the morning paper. 

“Morning Mom,” Foggy said, stumbling to the cabinets where he grabbed a mug and poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Morning,” Anna replied. She put the paper down. “How’s Matt?”

“Sleeping peacefully for now. He woke up twice last night, but has been sleeping ok since around 1:30 this morning. Mom, can I talk to you about something in strict confidence?” Foggy asked, sitting down at the table with his coffee.

“Of course,” Anna said, looking worried.

“Matt’s had nightmares before about stuff. About when he lost his sight, when his dad died, other random crap. But he’s never had nightmares like this before. Not with this intensity and this close together. And he won’t tell me what they’re about. I figure they have something to do with his attack, but I don’t know what exactly. I just think if he would TALK to someone, it would help. And if he’s not going to talk to me, then maybe he needs to see a professional.”

“Does the university have someone he can talk to?”

“Yeah, but the health clinic only has a skeleton crew this week because of spring break. His primary care physician gave me the card of a therapist and recommended him, I just don’t know…..”

“How to get Matt to agree to see him?” Anna finished for Foggy.

“Yeah. And then there’s the cost. He can see a therapist for free on campus and I don’t know how much this guy would charge per hour. But I really think Matt needs to see someone NOW not next week, if he could even get in next week.”

“Foggy, I think I speak for your father too when I say that if it’s a money issue, we can cover the cost of a few sessions if it will help Matt.”

“Mom, I wasn’t trying to hint at wanting any money…”

“I know,” Anna said, cutting him off. “I just want YOU to know that we will do anything to help Matt.”

“Thanks Mom,” Foggy said. “But I guess the first step is getting Matt to agree to see a therapist.”

“Well he’s not a child,” Anna said, picking up her coffee and taking a drink. “You can’t just put him in the car, drive him there, then drag him inside kicking and screaming. And don’t try to trick him into going either,” Anna said, holding up her hand, knowing that Foggy was about to suggest just that. Anna reached across the table and took Foggy’s hands. “You’re his best friend, the closest he’s ever had to a brother and the closest he’s had to family since his father died. You know him better than anyone. And if you betray his trust by trying to trick him into going to a therapist or forcing him to talk before he’s ready, it could cause irreparable damage to your friendship.”

“I just hate seeing him like this.”

“Do you think he’s enjoying this?” Anna asked. “Do you think he’s enjoying the nightmares and not being able to sleep well and being in pain and probably scared too?”

“No!” Foggy exclaimed. “Of course I don’t think he enjoys this. Which is why I think he needs to talk to a professional. Dr. Johnson thinks he probably needs to talk to someone too.”

“Yes, but Foggy,” Anna took a deep breath. “Does MATT think he needs to talk to a professional? Has he said that he WON’T talk to a professional? I know you’re getting frustrated because he won’t talk to you, but that doesn’t mean he would say no to someone else.”

“Well that’s insulting,” Foggy mumbled, then quickly, as he saw his mom about to say something else, said, “But that’s not the point right now. Matt hasn’t said he wouldn’t talk to a therapist. He just won’t talk to me and I don’t know why.”

“Do you know if he’s ever been in therapy before?”

“Yeah, after he lost his sight, he had to see a therapist as part of his trauma recovery program.”

“What about after his dad died?” Anna asked.

“He actually had to see a therapist at his school once a month during the academic year until he graduated.”

“What did he think about those experiences? Has he ever said if they helped or not?”

“He’s never really talked about his experience when he was in trauma recovery. But I know he hated having to see a therapist after his dad died.”

“Why?”

“Because the school, and the State of New York, didn’t give him a choice. He had to go every month and he said he always felt like he was giving the wrong answers. Like they were expecting him to feel or act differently.” Foggy chuckled. “He told me once they were concerned that he wasn’t processing his emotions correctly because he wasn’t acting out. He was behaving in class and at the orphanage, he was getting good grades, he was still talking about going to law school. I guess they thought he should have been more of a pain-in-the-butt.”

“Maybe Matt just doesn’t see the point of talking to a professional if he thinks they expect certain answers from him. Answers he’s not going to give.”

“Maybe. And maybe Matt doesn’t see a point in talking to somebody about nightmares. People have nightmares all the time, especially after traumatic events,” Foggy said.

“And maybe,” Anna said, cupping Foggy’s chin in her hand, “Matt is hesitant to ask for help because he doesn’t want to seem weak and unable to handle this on his own.”

“Why would he think seeing a therapist would make him seem weak?”

“I heard both of you last night. I had just come in the back door and was heading up the back stairs. I heard Matt saying that he’s ‘not supposed to be like this’,” Anna used air quotes. “Obviously, Matt has experience being in therapy. It sounds like it didn’t go so well. Or, at least Matt thinks it didn’t.”

Anna got up from the table, rinsed her mug out at the sink, then started looking through the freezer for something to cook for dinner that night. After a few minutes of silence, Foggy spoke up.

“I’ve kind of been an ass for making this about me and getting all insulted that Matt wouldn’t talk to me last night about his nightmares and what’s really bothering him.”

“You think?” Anna said, pulling a package of ground beef out of the freezer. “Spaghetti for dinner?”

Foggy nodded and Anna waited patiently, while Foggy let things swim around in his head a little more. 

“Maybe,” Foggy said, “I need to point blank ask Matt if he would be willing to talk to a therapist.”

“You could do that,” Anna said, setting things on the table that she would need later to make homemade sauce for the spaghetti. “Or, you could just let things be for now. Matt was JUST attacked a few nights ago. He needs time to process things in his own head first and, I know you care about him, but he hasn’t really had any alone time since that night to process things.”

“He’s alone right now,” Foggy said.

“Yes and he’s sleeping. I mean some time ALONE, just him, to think things through. You’ve been by his side pretty much the whole time since this happened, and I know Matt appreciates it and has wanted you there, but that also means that, besides when you guys are taking turns in the shower, he hasn’t had any time with just himself and his thoughts. Not really. He might not even realize he needs some time to process all of this. And if he can’t think straight about how this is affecting him, he’s not going to be able to verbally explain it very well either.” Anna sat down next to Foggy at the table. 

“If the opportunity comes up, definitely ask him if he’s thought about seeing a therapist for a session or two. But don’t try to push the subject. And later today, when he’s settled into some studying that you know he’s going to do, you’re going to help me with some chores around the house. Nothing big and they’ll all be inside so you can hear if Matt needs or wants you. But you are going to give him some space to process things himself in whatever way he needs.”

“Do you really think that will help?” Foggy asked.

“I can’t say for certain one way or the other. The facts, as we know them are these:,” Anna said, counting them off on her fingers, “1: Matt was attacked on Friday night. 2: YOU are Matt’s emergency contact and the person he wanted with him in the emergency room. Not someone else. YOU. 3: You haven’t really left Matt’s side since this happened, which I know he is grateful for especially when he’s needed some comfort. 4: Matt is having nightmares 5: Matt wouldn’t talk to you last night, in the midst of being upset. 6: You assume Matt doesn’t want to talk to anyone, since he wouldn’t talk to you last night. 7: Matt hasn’t said he wouldn’t talk to a therapist, nor has he completely brushed you off. He may just not know yet how to verbalize what’s really bothering him.

“Those are a lot of facts,” Foggy said.

“Yes, they are. Everything else is just you making things up in your head and being insulted. Including me assuming that he needs some time to process this on his own. Maybe he doesn’t. But my Mom Instinct says he does.”

“Ok,” Foggy said. “I’ll give him some time alone. But if he doesn’t improve, or talk to me, in the next few days, I’m figuring out a way to get him to a therapist.”

“And I will help you. But for today, you’re going to back off a little bit and see what happens. Once Matt can verbalize what’s going on in his head, he may come running right to you to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you all enjoyed! I know there wasn't any Matt in this little bit, but I wanted to get a little more into Foggy's head about this. 
> 
> I'm also working on a MacGyver (the 2016 reboot) story. When I fell in love with Supernatural fanfiction, the show had already been on for 10 years, so just about anything that could be written, had been written. By jumping in at the beginning of MacGyver, I'm hoping to get some good stories going. If anyone's a fan of that show, I'm hoping to get a story out before the end of the year. (I am more of a Jack girl than a Mac girl, though, so expect my stories to revolve more around him.)


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